


The Tender Winds of Mines

by FenguHen



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: And it fucking shows, Cause they are, Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frick English tenses man, Han Jisung is a sweetheart, Han Jisung | Han is Whipped, How's that not a tag yet, Hurt/Comfort, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, Love, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, No Plot/Plotless, Not THAT kind of biting tho, Protective Lee Minho | Lee Know, SO MUCH TENDERNESS YOU'RE GOING TO BE SICK OF IT, Tags Are Hard, Tenderness, There's like one curse word bu you know, They are in love your honour, and a sweetheart, biting as a love language, duh - Freeform, have i mentioned they're in love, just to make sure, kind of?, middle of the night, t for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenguHen/pseuds/FenguHen
Summary: ‘’When did you get here darling?’’Minho closes his eyes as if to avoid answering the question. The younger one feels his eyelashes brush his thumb slightly. A moment of complete silence passes and then-"At, like, around 3am." Minho’s silvery, albeit still a bit rough voice, rings out. Jisung only hums in response, he was expecting something like that. His forehead does not relax though."And what were you doing up so late?""Couldn't sleep," the elder admits, a barely-noticeable sheepishness creeping into his tone.At that, the younger one breaks into a full-on worried frown. "Min," he exhales, the name almost lost in the sound.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 4
Kudos: 99





	The Tender Winds of Mines

**Author's Note:**

> Heya hey, I'm kind of posting it in a rush, so I apologise for a pretty shitty summary- will probably edit it later.  
> Anyway, I'm sososo excited!! This is my first work like, ever, so I really hope you like it and it's not terrible. Critique is welcomed, bUt please be kind to me, I am a sensitive soul and WILL cry if pushed too far.  
> Also, English is my second language and although I am very much fluent and I have read through the whole thing numerous times, there could still be some mistakes (especially in the damn tenses), so please excuse them and if you want, you can even kindly point them out!! I'm always open to learn something new. So that's that, enjoy the fic!!

He is back on the stage. He is rasping words into the microphone, the loud cheers from their crowd encouraging him further, giving him energy.  _ Their  _ crowd.

Sometimes he still can’t really believe it. He Just can't wrap his head about the fact that this was theirs, they achieved this, they did it. At times, he feels like he doesn’t quite deserve it, but this is not any of these moments. He feels alive, cracking with the electricity thrumming through his veins, his heart pumping with elation, his mind clear and oh  _ so  _ delightfully blank. 

The lights all around beat down on him, almost blinding him and emanating unbearable heat. Have they always felt like this? Is it just on this particular stage? Has someone from the lighting crew made a mistake?  _ Why is it so damn hot _ , is the only thought currently occupying the space of his brain. He’s absolutely sure he’s missed his verse now. 

He looks around, but there is no one beside him, nor, he realises with a start, in front of him. Where has everyone gone to? His only company are only those lights, taking no mercy on his confused mind and continuing to aim at him, making him sweat profusely. It isn’t really all that uncomfortable, in the end, he has been in the industry for years, he’s used to it somewhat, but coupled with his confusion that only keeps building up, it is far from pleasant. 

The lights suddenly seem to amp it up even more. Has he accidentally teleported into an oven? Why for the love of every fluffy animal, are they trying to cook him alive? His eyes automatically close from the intensity that just isn’t letting up.

The moment he opens them again, he sees nothing but darkness. He pushes out a quiet sigh, maybe it was just a slight malfunction and now he can continue on with the concert- wait a minute. Is that hair tickling his nose? His disorientation grows only further when he picks up a really weird smell, a very cottony one at that. He begins to rise up a little bit (in the midst of it all only a slight part of his brain picks up on the fact that he’s for some reason lying down on his side now) to look at whatever is-

Oh.  _ Oh. _

_ Oh indeed _ , he can’t help but internally snicker at his own brain’s eloquent reaction.

He still can’t see much, but from what he can, he deducts a human figure peacefully slumbering the night away in his bed. In all his i-just-woke-up haziness and bewilderment it takes him a little to work through the fact that the stage was a dream and what has woken him up just seconds (minutes?) prior is the heat he feels because a certain someone is clinging on him like his life depends on it. He is very certain on who that certain someone is, therefore he doesn’t panic. Really, there is only one person who can be found lying next to him in the dead of the night. Plus, the smell, that he can now recognise as febreeze, gave him away. 

He’s always wondered why does Minho spray even his hair with it. He would be a hypocrite to judge him for using it instead of a perfume, because he does that as well. He’s long grown tired of the painfully prominent artificialness of any cologne he has ever had the misfortune of coming across, and while febreeze is a very non-typical way of solving this problem, it works. But why would the elder use it even for his hair, he will probably never understand. Clothes and wrists he gets, but  _ hair _ ? 

In the middle of his musing he doesn’t notice Minho slowly rousing up until the other turns on his back and his shoulder blade digs into Jisung’s wrist rather painfully. The younger shrieks softly. The minute shock makes his already throbbing arm give up under him. He falls unceremoniously on top of the elder, managing to hit his own forehead on the unfortunate’s collarbone as a bonus. He feels, more than he hears, Minho’s soft grunt. Jisung quickly glances at Jeongin’s bed ; thankfully, the younger is still asleep, the slight commotion did not wake him up. The same can’t be said about the two boys now staring dumbly at each other though. 

The elder recovers first. "Hey," he whispers into the booming quietness.

"Hi,’’ breathes out the younger, ‘’mind, maybe, freeing my arm? You’re kind of crushing it, Min.’’ 

The elder blinks down at him. Jisung knows that if it weren’t a middle of the night, he would have purposefully rolled around on it. The fact that he has just woken up is also currently working in the younger’s arm’s favour. Like this, he just takes a second to process and then props himself on his elbows so Jisung can save his poor limb with a relieved sigh.

After that they both adjust a little on the bed. Their new position has them both lying on their sides, looking into each other’s eyes. Or at least, as much of them as they can see, the younger supposes. 

Jisung stops Minho from bringing his hand up towards his face and lays it back down. He has seen enough of him literally digging the heels of his palms into his poor poor eyeballs to be completely horrified. Such pretty eyes do not deserve the sheer torture their owner is regularly putting them through. 

Instead, he extends his own hands to gently rub the sleepiness around the elder’s eyes off, being especially careful not to jab his own fingers into them. While hovering over him a realisation hits him. While this situation is really nothing unusual for them, there is one thing that bothers Jisung. Minho was not with him when he conked out at around two in the morning. That means the elder has gotten into his bed sometime later, which in turn means he has either sleepwalked here or he hasn’t been able to sleep for some reason and has simply seeked the younger out. The thing is, the only member who occasionally sleepwalks is Chan (curse his body for not resting even when it’s supposed to) and Minho’s sleep schedule is the healthiest of all of them. If he hasn’t been able to fall asleep… the thought makes Jisung’s forehead slightly crease with worry.

After he stops fussing over the elder’s eyes and settles back down, he leaves one hand on the other’s cheek and softly asks, ‘’When did you get here darling?’’

Minho closes his eyes as if to avoid answering the question. The younger one feels his eyelashes brush his thumb slightly. A moment of complete silence passes and then-

"At, like, around 3am." Minho’s silvery, albeit still a bit rough voice, rings out. Jisung only hums in response, he was expecting something like that. His forehead does not relax though.

"And what were you doing up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep," the elder admits, a barely-noticeable sheepishness creeping into his tone.

At that, the younger one breaks into a full-on worried frown. "Min," he exhales, the name almost lost in the sound.

But Minho hears him, feels the calling of concern. "I know, I know, vulnerability and shit,’’ he rambles out, tone verging on defensive, ‘’but I promise it's nothing severe. I'm just-’’ he pauses for a bit, looking for the right words. Although Jisung can’t see much in the darkness, he can see the whites of his eyes pretty clearly when he shifts his pupils to the side in thought. ‘’So high-strung you know?’’ he continues after a short while, ‘’like I'm used to constant moving and being under some sort of pressure and I love that, but now that it's gone I just..." His sentence peters out and he gently grips Jisung’s wrist, making direct eye contact with him, quietly pleading him to understand.

And Jisung does. He is very good at hearing the other as well.

"It's okay for you to rest, love." He kind of feels like he’s giving him some sort of permission, even though that’s far from the case here. The words just weigh weirdly on his tongue. Most of the time it’s the elder reassuring him and urging him to take breaks. He’s certain Minho has told him the exact same sentence and he’s just echoing it back now.

‘’I know-’’ his sentence is interrupted with a wide yawn that the elder tries to hide in the pillow under their heads. It makes Jisung smile at him, completely endeared, and thus free his forehead from the frown at last. ‘’It's just kind of hard to convince my damn body and subconscious of it,’’ he continues after resurfacing from the linen, ‘’I should execute them for that, damn traitors." At that, Jisung can’t help but release a soft chuckle. It’s bordering on a pretty ugly snort, but he can blame that on the croakiness of his own voice.

"Maybe you could try to learn something new?"

Minho blinks at him and the action makes the whites of his eyes flash owlishly. "Are you really giving me the basic how-to-survive-quarantine advice?" he asks amusedly.

"Yah!’’ Jisung squawks indignantly and lightly slaps the elder on the cheek he’s still cuping. The elder raises a threatening eyebrow at that, but does nothing more. The younger is certain that if he were someone else, he would have been kicked straight off the bed. No amount of sleepiness would stop Minho from reigning over a mattress that’s not even his. 

Thankfully, Jisung’s title of Minho’s boyfriend saves him. Maybe only barely, but he quickly starts talking again, before the elder can change his mind and decide to go through with it, boyfriend privileges be damned.‘’It could be just what you need! There’s a reason that it’s a number one tip at those lists, you know,’’ he pauses for a bit, his voice softening again when he remembers something the other has previously told him, ‘’you've always wanted to learn piano, haven't you? You could do that and let off some of that additional energy." 

Minho stays quiet for a concerning amount of time. Jisung fears he truly might kick him off at this point. Just as he’s internally saying goodbye to the warmth of his own bed, the elder leans closer and bites him on the shoulder and then settles his head in the crook of the other’s neck with a sigh that tickles the sensitive skin there. 

"I hate it when you make sense."

Now, Jisung can’t see the action at all, but he  _ knows  _ Minho’s pouting.

"I've been told," he smiles wryly.

There’s something in those words that seem to set the elder off, perhaps some kind of thought he has had for a while surfaces to the front of his mind, because he suddenly leans back and looks Jisung dead in the eye.

"No but it's so _unfair_ , Jisung. You shouldn't be so mature. You shouldn't sometimes sound like a one hundred and twenty years old wizard that has seen all the lows of life. You shouldn't be _wise._ "

_ Oh _ , Jisung thinks,  _ that kind of escalated _ .

When Minho finishes his unexpected tirade, he takes a deep inhale to calm himself down slightly, as if just remembering there is another person in the room with them. After that, he lifts his eyes from where he pointed them to the side, and places a hand on the other’s cheek. 

"You're just twenty, Hannie, and it's like you're carrying a whole world on your shoulders,’’ he finishes, the end of the sentence hardly audible.

_Oh_ , Jisung thinks yet again -his brain really going off with the diverse poetry it spits out today- because he's told that quite a lot. There actually isn’t a member who has not at some point of time exclaimed something along the lines of ‘Wow, I didn't expect you to be this mature!’

Minho himself has gaped at him unblinking with his mouth shaped into a little 'o' the very first time he has told him something more than surface slash smalltalk level gibberish. 

The thing is, Jisung doesn't think he's really more mature or knowledgeable or anything like that. There's nothing that could ever replace experiences from life, from long years of living. He just.. thinks a lot. He thinks above and beyond what other people think about. He spends so much time questioning his morals, his way of living, his priorities and random philosophical questions, that he guesses he has given himself a head start in all those departments. What will the others come to realise only in the oncoming years, he already has, and pretty thoroughly at that.

It's not a bad thing necessarily, but he can see why Minho is so frustrated about it. Not because he wants to change this part of him or because he's petty and has some I'm-older-therefore-wiser-and-superior complex, but simply because he cares. He cares so, so deeply that Jisung can sometimes feel it emanating from him in waves. Minho himself would deny that as much as possible, but unfortunately for him, Jisung knows him way too thoroughly to be convinced otherwise. There's a meme that pops in the back of his head, but this is not really the most suitable time, so he pushes it to the very back of his mind and instead focuses back on the situation at hand.

Jisung thinks about what he should say for a second and ultimately decides on a simple, whispered, "I know", because there's not much that he can really say.

He sees in the way Minho purses his lips, that he has heard the underlying message behind these plain words loud and clear. The elder knows more than anyone else about the exact ways Jisung’s mind works. He knows all the bad and negative that can appear completely out of nowhere and uninvited in the other’s consciousness. It’s where Jisung gets all the ideas for lyrics from afterall. He also knows that this is just how things are and there’s nothing either of them can do other than simply accept it. He knows, he respects it and maybe he doesn’t get it completely, but he  _ understands _ , and that’s really all Jisung could ever ask for.

After a few seconds of looking into each other’s eyes, he slides the hand resting on the younger’s cheek into his hair in the back and gently pulls his head, so that he can tap their foreheads together.

"I just... I love you. It's you"

Again, it's more than those few syllables. There's something indescribably tender about Minho's voice. It makes Jisung’s breath hitch a little and his eyes widen just a tad. Any other person probably would've been confused as to how that connects with Jisung's previous line, but he gets it. They're speaking in their own language now, a language they have developed over all of the years spent together.

They have never been good at being serious. Not conventionally serious at least, not in words. They have gotten better obviously, but they still read a lot along the lines. And Jisung thinks it's okay. He's sure that Minho thinks the same. They understand and they know. They don't need profound sentences and paragraphs to describe how do they feel. Their communication forte lies elsewhere.

Instead of gracing that with another verbal reply, Jisung surges just a little forward and presses his lips onto the elder's. He can feel Minho’s body tensing up and only relax and reluctantly give in after a few moments. The younger can’t help but smile and giggle which eventually breaks the kiss. 

"The morning breath," whines Minho as soon as he can, like he has been preparing to blurt it out during the whole time they were kissing. And he most likely has.

Jisung simply ignores that and presses his cheek on the other's lightly. After a while, he adds, almost as an after-thought: "Thank you. I'm really grateful for you, you know."

This one is packed. Maybe he should've elaborated more, afterall, it's pretty much completely out of the context of their current conversation. He's not thanking him for this moment only, he's thanking him for all the times he could have dismissed him and left, yet he hasn't. Especially around the time of Jisung's burnout. That time was their hardest so far.

It's not like they fought or anything but Jisung was just never with Minho. Not mentally. For weeks he zoned out and got stuck in his head. He dissociated so often, it really was like he wasn't even there. Around that time they were already together. They had talked before about possible issues they may encounter in the future and how they should go about them. Alas, this was unlike anything they could have ever predicted.

Before the then ninth member's departure, the dorms had been at total disarray. Petty and meaningless fights broken out among almost everyone and harsh words had been thrown around carelessly. Jisung himself had been a victim to them, and, just to add salt to a wound, they had cut too deep. They had been directly aimed at his insecurities and worries. Minho had been livid after hearing only one jab at the younger. He and the others tried to reassure him as best as they could at that time, but the damage had been done and even weeks prior to the worst, Jisung had already withdrawn into himself. And then, when the member left, he became a ghost. 

Minutes bled into hours, sometimes he didn't even know what day it was. It all felt the same to him. He paid so little attention to reality, when someone was beside him, they left before he could even notice them. Felix later told him he was with him pretty often, but Jisung didn't remember him ever being. His therapist told him that this was the way his brain processed the situation. That before, he had been kind of in a 'survival mode', he couldn't afford to process anything, and after the trigger of his distress disappeared, he could finally take the time to do so.

He understands now, that it was necessary, but at that time it felt beyond horrible for everyone included. Minho took the brunt of it. He never really left Jisung’s side, even if he could, and the younger frankly wouldn't blame him. Fortunately, he stayed, patiently waited for whenever Jisung came back from his head and then made him talk. They talked about things so insignificant, it was honestly ridiculous, but it helped the younger so much, eventually breaking him from his slump completely. 

Although at the time they were the farthest from each other, it brought them impossibly closer, molded them into who they are now. Minho also became much more protective over Jisung. He’s never minded, he understands where it came from. The elder has confided in him about how useless and powerless he felt back then. Jisung himself would have probably reacted similarly if the roles were reversed. Plus, it has never breached any of the younger’s lines and when it came close to it, they talked. It was a considerably small, but noticeable shift in their dynamic.

Since then, the younger has been saying something about how thankful he is quite consistently. Jisung now wonders, if Minho catches onto the underlined meaning, if he senses that he's, yet again, grateful for not dumping his anxious self, for loving him through his very worst.

He gets his answer in the form of Minho taking the hand that was lying on his nape before and lightly slapping him on the shoulder with it. He then scoots back to look at him intensively, his eyebrows slightly twitching.

"Han Jisung,’’ he says his name with all the exasperation he has been able to channel. 

They've been through this countless times and Minho has always felt the younger doesn’t have to thank him for anything. From his point of view he just did what any other sensible being should, nothing really special about it. But he’s aware of how much him staying means to Jisung, how utterly  _ devastated  _ he would have been if the elder hadn’t. And this, this he gets. If the younger were to ever shy away from him because of his own demons, well, he definitely wouldn’t be lying like this next to him. Not now and definitely not in the future.

Jisung reaches his hand out and tucks a strand of Minho’s hair behind his ear. The corners of his mouth are curled into a gentle smile. "I know I just want you to know that I appreciate you,’’ the younger then remembers he’s still yet to say something back, ‘’and love you." After adding that last bit, he grins like he has just done Minho a favour.

The elder just playfully rolls his eyes. in disbelief at the audacity.  _ The things I let you get away with _ , he thinks fondly.

"Yeah," is what he settles for as an answer, not gracing it with something more eloquent, because one, there’s nothing else to add, and two, he’s tired and wants to go back to, albeit quite restless, sleep. The sole reason he came to the younger’s room  _ was  _ to sleep after all, not mull over the past and whatnot. He got a little sidetracked from the original plan, he admits, but he just had to get these thoughts out of his system after months of sitting on them. He never intended to do so, but dead tired Minho’s brain-to-mouth filter is even more nonexistent than the widely awake Minho’s one.

With a last long exhale he makes himself comfortable in the bed again and, mind fully set on not waking up until he has to, he closes his eyes.

Jisung watches the whole adjustment with great amusement. This kind of feels like having been answered with just a thumbs to an important text. He guesses it really can be considered an equivalent to that. Or maybe it can even be compared to being left on read. 

He decides to store all this gibberish for later and instead takes off his t-shirt and tosses it somewhere into the room, so that he can cuddle Minho without boiling to death. In the middle of settling back down a thought occurs to him. He looks at Jeongin’s bed and then back at the piece of clothing now laying on the floor. He really,  _ really  _ hopes they somehow wake up before the maknae, because otherwise he will shoot them a look of pure disgust as soon as he spots it, even though they literally haven't done anything. 

He’s suddenly violently pulled from his reverie by a sharp pain of his calf and a sound that is suspiciously similar to a smack. He looks down at Minho, who is for some reason clenching his teeth. He instantly realises what has happened; the elder has kicked his calf, probably to get him to make him lay back on the bed, but it backfired, because he’s smacked his own leg with the one he had kicked. Now, Jisung is trying _really_ hard not to laugh, but it’s taking everything from him

‘’ _ Shut up and go to sleep _ ,’’ the elder hisses embarrassedly at him.

A very Minho-like thing to tell him to shut up when Jiisung hadn’t uttered a single word yet. Maybe it’s some sort of precaution, because oh boy, was the younger ready to make fun of him. He doesn’t want to rile up the elder any further though, plus his eyelids weigh close to a ton right now, so he heeds his command and settles down. Although he can’t not react to the whole situation and completely let it go, therefore he at least presses a gentle kiss on Minho’s temple with his lips shaped into an obvious smile. The elder just grumbles almost inaudibly, maybe even mumbles a few curses under his breath in reaction. 

Jisung then slips one hand under the other’s neck, so he can wrap an arm around his shoulders and slings the left one on his waist. After also gently tucking Minho’s head under his chin he deeply breathes out. With that, he relaxes, closes his eyes and goes on a journey to catch another few hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep to the sounds of gentle puffs on his neck accompanying him.

_ We better fucking wake up before Jeongin _ , is his final thought before slipping into unconsciousness.


End file.
